


A Holiday Postcard

by MryddinWilt



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:18:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5070526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MryddinWilt/pseuds/MryddinWilt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On New Year's Eve Emma receives a drunken postcard from the person that used to live in her apartment. A strange friendship is forged as they become unlikely penpals, sharing their tragic backstories and more. A one-shot first posted on Tumblr based on a post there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Holiday Postcard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpartanGuard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpartanGuard/gifts).



It was 10pm on New Year’s Eve and Emma Swan was checking the mail. If she bought into that crap about how your New Year’s decided the rest of the year she would be extremely depressed as she slipped her key into the tiny door. As it was she was only slightly depressed and more than slightly drunk. She was also very alone. But she wasn’t dwelling on that not the way she did on her birthday or on the birthday of the son she had never met. No, on New Year’s Eve Emma celebrated the end of the holiday season and the beginning of her busiest time of year. Lots of nice but naive people bailed out some truly horrible characters in the name of the Christmas spirit and Emma usually spent most of January tracking them down.

Some New Year’s she got dressed up, went to a bar, and found someone ready and willing for mindless, no questions asked, sex. But this year she had forgone that semi-tradition in favor of some romantic comedies that she would never admit to watching, let alone owning and being able to quote from memory. “Shop Around the Corner” (so much better than You’ve Got Mail) had reminded her of her full letter box down in the lobby and the dirty look the mail woman had given her that morning.  

Emma didn’t get enough mail to check her box regularly but the former tenant in her apartment had forgotten to leave a forwarding address and she got plenty of mail for the both of them; lately most of it was Christmas cards. She tried not to hate Killian Jones and her seemingly limitless supply of friends with cute kids and even cuter Christmas cards (Emma wasn’t snooping lots of people sent postcards with no envelope). After all she quite enjoyed the subscriptions to National Geographic, Blue Water Sailing, and Martha Stewart Living that also arrived with K. Jones on them. But it did bother Emma that this person, who hadn’t lived in the apartment for almost a year, seemed to have an abundance of people who cared while Emma had none.

She pulled out the mail, it took a few good tugs, and clutched it to her chest before trudging back to her apartment and “Sleepless in Seattle”. When she dropped it on her coffee table her eye was caught by a non-Christmas postcard of a small oceanside village with the words “Visit Maine” over the top in a cheesy font. She wondered who Killian Jones knew in Maine as she flipped the card over (she had long since gotten over her scruples of looking at Killian’s mail).

**Hey,**

**I used to live in your apartment. I am drunk and alone and it’s the only address I know.**

**Happy Holidays!**

**KJ**

Emma stared at the flowing script, penmanship nicer than it should be for a drunk person, and smiled. She read it again and then her eyes flicked to the left hand corner where there was an address to a town called Storybrooke. Her smile widened and she suddenly felt justified for keeping all of Killian Jones’ Christmas notes in a nice stack on her kitchen counter instead of returning them to get lost in some mail sorting bin purgatory. The next day as she recovered from her wine and movie hangover she got a padded mailer and penned a note of her own.

 

* * *

 

_Killian,_

_Thanks for the postcard. Enclosed you will find your mail. Did nobody tell you about address forwarding? I really like your magazines by the way. Sorry you were drunk and alone hopefully all these cards will remind you how many people care. I don’t get cards on the holidays so it was nice getting to see yours.  Also was the kitchen faucet leaking when you left?_

_Swan_

 

* * *

 

After sending the package off in the mail Emma didn’t think any more about Killian until a letter arrived, an actual, handwritten letter in that incredible penmanship.

 

* * *

 

**Swan,**

**Is that your first name, last or nick name? I like it but then I have an affinity for swans. I appreciate you sending along my mail. Although I wish you had included my Nat Geo as I dearly miss it. We won’t talk about my Martha Stewart Living okay? But if you would like to send that along I wouldn’t complain….**

**I am glad my cards weren’t a nuisance but I do apologize for not forwarding my mail. Not that this is an excuse but I left Boston in a bit of a rush (long story) and was doing my best to put my old life far behind me. As for the faucet it started leaking the week before I left. Sorry about that.**

**Killian**

 

* * *

 

_Killian,_

_It’s been a month since I got your letter (you have gorgeous handwriting btw). I keep thinking about what your long story might be. I get leaving places in a rush and trying to escape your past. And it’s weird but I walk around my apartment and listen to the faucet drip and I wonder what happened to you here that made you run off to nowhere Maine. I looked Storybrooke up it’s literally in the middle of no and where. And I don’t think you need to share your life story or anything. But if you wanted to share it with a perfect stranger who happens to be sleeping in your old place, well I would like to hear it._

_Swan_

_Oh I enclosed an article from Martha Stewart Living about nautical decor that I thought you might like._

* * *

 

**Swan,**

I **t’s strangely touching to learn that a faceless someone sits in the place I lived for seven years and thinks of me and cares about what has happened to me. You must be a very caring person to want to hear the sob story of a stranger. Or perhaps you just like to collect sad stories? Either way I have decided it might be good for me to tell my story to someone that I will never meet and who will never look at me with pity or distaste. I will attempt to be brief.**

**I fell in love with a woman named Milah. It was the kind of love they write poems and songs about. We met in college and we fell hard and fast for each other. I would have done anything for her and she for me I think. We were going to get married and we were ridiculously happy. I think we were so happy we offended the universe and it decided to punish us.**

**A year and a half ago she was driving home and got hit by an inattentive driver. Her injuries were extensive. I got to talk to her on the phone before she went in for surgery but they put her under and she never woke up.**

**After she died I fell apart. Then the guy that hit Milah lawyered up and was trying to blame her for everything. I was livid. He had killed her and was now trying to escape justice. I won’t go into details but I became fixated revenge. I got disbarred (I was a lawyer) and lost my job. I became a drunk and…well lets just say I was a mess. One morning I was staring at our couch. We put it under the east window and would curl up in it on Sunday mornings. And I got so angry that I ripped it apart and that’s when I knew I couldn’t stay in the apartment or in Boston anymore. I couldn’t move on in that town.**

**Like a coward I ran away to where nobody would know me and where nobody would ask about Milah or my job or anything in my past. But here I am writing a letter to you because after almost a year of not talking about it I kind of wanted to talk about it. And writing it all out actually felt really good. So thank you for your interest Swan it helped me more than you’ll know.**

**Thank you for the article I found the instructions for a ship in the bottle particularly interesting.**

**Your Friend,**

**Killian**

 

* * *

 

_Killian,_

_I don’t know what to say to your story. Is there a “right” thing to say? I don’t think so. But thank you for sharing. You said it felt good to share your sad story and since we will never meet I thought maybe I should share mine?_

_I grew up an orphan and was in and out of foster care until I was 16. I ran away from a bad situation and I have just kept running. When I was 17 I met a guy and fell in love, though sometimes I wonder if it really was love or if I was just desperate to matter to someone. He framed me for theft and I found out I was pregnant in prison._

_I had a boy and gave him up for adoption so he could have a chance at happiness. I never even held him. I knew I couldn’t be a good mother but not a day goes by that I don’t wonder what he looks like, what he sounds like, what he likes to do for fun or a hundred other things._

_When I got out of jail I started looking for Neal (my son’s father). I wanted to tell him about what happened. I wanted him to explain why he set me up. I never found him. But I discovered I am pretty damn good at tracking assholes down. So I started doing it for a living. I am a bail bonds person and I am fantastic at my job. I guess if I ever see Neal again I can thank him for that._

_I don’t have a lot of friends, I never really figured out how people make and keep friends bouncing around the system. It doesn’t help that I move a lot. Every couple years I just start to feel too comfortable in a place. Too many people know me by name or recognize my face and ask me how I am doing. It feels wrong to be comfortable so I leave. I start over in a new city where nobody knows me and every time I leave a place I wonder if I will miss it or the people. I never do._

_That’s my tragic backstory._

_I don’t know if writing this out helped at all. I think I just want to get drunk and watch a Judy Garland movie. But I guess I’ll send it since you sent yours and it feels right to share._

_I am glad you liked the article. I am not much of a decorator myself. Since Storybrooke is so boring maybe you can make your own ship in a bottle?_

_I have a stakeout to go to. Thanks for reading._

_Swan_

 

* * *

 

After she sent her sob story Emma expected to never hear from Killian again and it felt right that they should share their stories and move on. But Killian sent her another letter and Emma found herself responding to it. After a few more Killian included her email explaining that she would be sailing for much of the summer and wouldn’t be able to pick up letters in Storybrooke. Emma created a new email just to talk with Killian (thatswan@gmail.com).

Nothing changed once they started emailing besides the frequency of their correspondence. It was a strange intimacy sharing bits of their lives, their interests, and their deepest thoughts. Emma had never been good with sharing or being emotionally vulnerable but writing Killian came easy. She didn’t know if it was because of the feeling of anonymity, the act of writing instead of talking or the way Killian responded to each new piece of information with surprising perception and understanding but she was becoming addicted to sharing her thoughts and feelings.

She didn’t even notice how far gone she was until she didn’t hear from Killian for ten days; four days longer than the sailing trip was supposed to take.

She found herself obsessively checking her email and feeling anxious about a sailing accident. There was a pain in her heart and an emptiness in the pit of her stomach and she hated it. Those feeling were why she never got attached because in the end everyone leaves and it always hurts. It was in those painful days of self-discovery and worry that Emma finally ran a background check on Killian Jones. She didn’t want to invade privacy but if she was going to figure out if her boat was lost at sea Emma would need details. The first thing she found was a driver’s license with a picture of a man.

To be fair Killian does sound like a girls name.

 

* * *

 

When Killian awoke in the hospital room to strange beeps and even stranger smells he couldn’t quite remember what had happened. The lights were low and Liam was asleep in the lounge chair next to the bed. Killian stared at his brother and slowly pieced things together. The storm, the huge wave and the cold embrace of the water. He wondered as he drifted back to sleep how long he had been out and if Swan had emailed him.

The next time he awoke Liam was there to talk to him and explain everything. He had a concussion and had swallowed a lot of sea water. They wanted to keep him for observation and Killian was really too tired to argue. He requested his brother get his phone or laptop so he could check his email. Liam raised his eyebrow but made no further comment about the mysterious woman his brother had become so attached too without ever technically meeting.

The third time he awoke it was to a sun soaked room and one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was dressed in a red leather jacket, gold hair falling about her shoulders as she stared at her phone. She didn’t notice his eyes opening. It gave him the opportunity to be awed and to worry that he probably looked horrible with his sleep mussed hair and scruffy beard. Then her eyes flicked to him and he saw that they were green; an angry green.

“Hello beautiful.”

“You’re a man.”

He blinked and his forehead crinkled. “Yes, love. Last time I checked I was a man.” His voice was roughed by sleep and he cleared his throat as he pressed the button to raise his bed.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a bitter stare. “And you didn’t think to mention it?”

Killian rubbed his face and wondered if he was still dreaming or if she had escaped from the psych ward. “I thought it a rather obvious conclusion.”

She huffed and tossed her head, her golden hair caught in the light and he resisted the urge to comment on how stunning she was. He had a feeling this woman wouldn’t appreciate the compliment at this particular moment.

“Killian sounds like a girls name.”

“Well my mother would beg to differ with you. Now if you would be so kind as to tell me who you are Ms….?”

Shock rippled across her features. “You mean you don’t know who I am? You didn’t look me up?”

Before he can respond there is a knock at the door and a male orderly entered with a tray of food.

“I gotta go,” she mumbled before brushing past the orderly and out the door. Killian stared after her.

“Who was that?” He asked the man as he lifted the tray. He was still half convinced she was an illusion. The orderly looked back at the door and then at Killian with a concerned face.

“That was your fiancé.”

“My what? I don’t have a fiancé!”

“Are you sure? I heard the nurse call her your fiancé.”

Killian passed a hand over his eyes, he wasn’t sure of anything.

When Liam arrived an hour later he assured Killian that he wasn’t engaged. He was relieved and a bit sad. It was a relief to know that he hadn’t lost a large chunk of memories but a part of him had been hoping that the stunning and headstrong woman had been his fiancé. He wondered if she would came back. His strange encounter faded to the background only when Liam produced a laptop and Killian logged on to his email.

 

* * *

 

**Swan,**

**I sincerely apologize for my long absence I was in a bit of a scrape while sailing on the day we were meant to make port. I am fine but I wasn’t able to write you until now. Writing this down sounds like I am lying but I swear it’s the truth. Up until I fell into the water the trip was marvelous I took some video and pictures for you but Liam tells me my phone is on the bottom of the ocean so you will just have to imagine the snap of the sails and the pod of dolphins swimming alongside the boat. Or better yet you should come sailing with me and see them for yourself.**

**I know we haven’t spoken about meeting and I know you would likely prefer to always remain safe and anonymous but having a brush with death made me realize that I don’t want to miss out on any chances. I feel like you know me better than any other person in the world I feel connected to you and I want to explore that. Maybe we will hit it off, maybe we will hate each other but I would like to know one way or another. Wouldn’t you?**

**The nurses are telling me I need to go get some exercise. So I will sign off. Sorry again for the radio silence I assure you only unforeseen unconsciousness could keep me from replying to you. Also do you think Killian sounds like a girls name?**

**Yours,**

**Killian**

 

* * *

 

**Swan,**

**I am sorry if I scared or upset you with my suggestion to meet. I won’t push the issue. I am content to continue as we are. Just pen pals that share deep dark secrets. If that is what you prefer. I have lost so much in my life I don’t want to lose you too. Please write me back even if it’s to tell me you don’t want to communicate anymore.**

**They are releasing me from the hospital early tomorrow. Liam and I will be taking the Jolly Roger back to Storybrooke. I promise we will be careful and I will email you as soon as I can. That is assuming you have emailed me back and still want to hear from me. Please don’t pull away from me. Take a chance on me Swan. I promise you won’t regret it.**

**Still Yours,**

**Killian**

 

* * *

 

Killian arrived at the dock ahead of Liam. His stay in the hospital had been too long and he was ready to be back on the ocean, to drown his thoughts in the waves. Though he knew the ache in his heart from losing Swan would not be so easily banished he hoped it would ease the pain. As he turned the corner toward his ship he checked his phone for the hundredth time hoping he had missed an alert, but there was nothing but junk email offers. He sighed.

Lookin up he caught a flash of golden hair and a red leather jacket walking quickly in the opposite direction. And though had only seen the woman once he knew who it was. He broke into a jog.

“Wait. Hey.” Surprisingly the woman stopped and turned on her heel to face him. Her eyes darted nervously and she shifted the large duffle bag on her shoulder.

“You are the woman from the hospital. I thought I had amnesia for a whole hour because of you!” His voice came out accusing and he winced a little at the tone.

She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and bit her lip. Her eyes refused to meet his and Killian felt like he had cornered a wounded animal. He softened his voice.

“Look, sorry. I have just been going mad trying to figure out who you are.”

She flushed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have told people we were engaged. It was a stupid thing to do.”

Killian gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m not angry. I’m rather flattered that people believed a beautiful woman like you would consent to marry me.” She gave him a small smile but she still looked like she might bolt at any second. “Although I would like some kind of explanation.”

“It’s a long story.”

He raised his eyebrow but when he she didn’t continue he nodded. “Okay. Well I won’t keep you. I am sure you have things to do; places to be.” He gestured to her bag and she gave a half nod. He paused hoping she would say something, anything to alleviate the curiosity burning through him. But she only fidgeted with her duffle bag strap and glanced away. He turned to leave taking a few steps before she called out.

“Killian is a girls name.”

He turned around and she walked toward him words flowing rapidly from her mouth.

“And I thought you were a girl. Well a lesbian. And maybe that’s why I shared so much, why I told you so much. Cause I thought it was safe; that you were safe. Then you just disappeared and we had never met but I didn’t want to lose you. I was terrified of losing you and then I found out you were a man and I was just angry. I thought you had lied or played me and I wanted to confront you. But then I met you and I ran. Because I always run, Killian, but I want to stop running. I do.” She took a deep breath and Killian, still full of awe and wonder at the strange turn of events, reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek. She gave him a small smile and took a deep breath before letting her words tumble out in a rush. “I guess what I am trying to say is. My name is Emma Swan and if the offer is still good I would like to go sailing with you.”

Killian felt joy like warm sunshine surge through him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Swan.” he extended his hand and she took it. He didn’t shake it, just held it, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand as he drank in the sight of her. He stared, trying to connect the woman from the letters and emails with the vision standing before him. Heat danced between them at that simple touch and he shivered.

He had thought himself incapable of moving on from Milah but looking at Swan he knew he had been wrong. He pulled her hand and together they walked toward the Jolly Roger.

He gestured to it with his free hand “Behold the Rolly Joger. I mean Jolly Roger.”

He gave her a sheepish smile and the tips of his ears turned pink, he hadn’t been tongue tied since puberty. She smiled back and he thought maybe she appreciated knowing he was nervous too. Then she dropped her bag and pulled on his hand, spinning him into her body. Her lips claimed his and electricity shot through him. As their lips slid and their teeth clacked he eagerly reached up to caress her chin and tangle his hands in her hair. The kiss was somehow brand new and utterly familiar. He kissed with a passion had thought dead and soon he was an entirely different kind of tongue tied. As the kiss slowed and they pulled back, their breath coming in gasps, Killian found his voice.

“That was…”

“A chance worth taking.”

They both grinned wide and goofy and then turned to board the ship.

 

* * *

 

That New Year’s Eve Emma and Killian got drunk together and watched the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy before making love and falling asleep to the gentle rock of the ocean. Emma knew it was going to be a fantastic year. Even if she didn’t believe that crap about New Year’s Eve deciding the next 365 days.


End file.
